


Belief

by Roadstergal



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, Hallucinations, Loneliness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: A post-Infinity War vignette.  There are many ways to deal with loss and depression.





	Belief

Tony was not alone.

Well, he _was_ alone, literally speaking.  Pepper was gone.  He was alone in bed, mentally and physically exhausted, unable to sleep for the fifth night in a row, and so he had taken a few more drugs than usual.  After that, he really shouldn't be surprised that he didn’t _find_ himself alone.

“Go ‘way,” he grumbled.

"No," the contrary semi-deity replied.  “You opened your mind.  You summoned the god of stories.”

“I’m an atheist,” Tony protested.  “Go bother Steve, he believes in you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe in me or not.” A body that wasn’t there, giving him a surprisingly warm and comforting embrace that was all in his mind.  “You have the stories.  You believe stranger things than he does.”

“Like what?”

“Well.” Warm breath in his ear that was all illusion, imagination.  “You believe you can fly.  You believe you can be a hero, a better man than you actually are. The difference between you two is that you make your stories reality. That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re telling me I’m R Kelly.”

A chuckle without mirth.  “You’re whoever you want to be.  At the moment, you’re Tony Stark, and that’s far more than most people can deal with in a lifetime.”

“Mmm, stroking my ego will get you nowhere.  Wait, it’ll get you everywhere.”  Tony had been through worse trips, he had to admit.  It was cozy, at least, and not horrifying.  “I hate you, though.  You destroyed my city.  Killed a lot of people.”

“ _Your_ city.” Loki snorted.  “You’re as ambitious as I am.  That was my downfall – that, and jealousy of my brother.  But that’s my story, not yours.  I died to redeem myself. I don’t recommend it.”

“Tell me your story, then.” A distraction, someone else's problems to distract him from his own.

“Mm.  No.” Warmth, close to him.  “I do not give up my stories.  I collect them. I hoard them. They are my treasure.  Tell me yours, Tony.”

And so he did.


End file.
